


i'll ride a wave on your inhaling

by agentpolastri



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Season 3, Semi-Public Sex, TOP EVE RIGHTS, they went on a vacation, villanelle drank i love eve juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentpolastri/pseuds/agentpolastri
Summary: After the meeting on the London bridge, Eve and Villanelle travel to Greece for a brief vacation instead of the obvious Alaskan route.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 23
Kudos: 293





	i'll ride a wave on your inhaling

In the days after their understanding on the London bridge, they do not end up going to Alaska. It would have been the most obvious choice and the Twelve would have tracked them down within a matter of hours. Instead, they take their chances with boarding a plane to Greece. Villanelle mentions that she’s rather tired of the cold, would rather lounge in the sun for a few blissful days before things inevitably went to shit again. Eve can’t help but chuckle at that, and agrees to take a break _just this once._

“ _Villanelle,_ ” the man at the desk greets her with the warmth of familiarity. This startles Eve as she watches them interact with each other, the assassin even going so far as to clap the resort receptionist on the shoulder with a grin. They chat idly about room arrangements and Eve almost misses the way that Villanelle discreetly slides an envelope to the man she now knows as Basil. She mentally jots it down before letting her gaze wander to their surroundings.

It was hot, that much was clear. Eve’s wardrobe almost entirely consisted of sweaters and heavily-weighted clothes, and she grimaced at the thought of wearing anything resembling a turtleneck in the suffocating beams of the blazing Greek sun. The resort lobby was bright and quiet with only the occasional staff member passing through. 

This certainly wasn’t a normal vacation place.

White marble seemed to be the predominant theme, though gold accented the walls and statues of the famed Greek mythology peppered the space. In one corner of the lobby, she could make out enough details of a feminine bust to be able to tell that it was Aphrodite. That one mythology and monsters course she had taken in university had _finally_ paid off.

“Oh! How rude of me. This must be your wife, then?” Asks Basil, stretching his hand out over the counter as his gaze lights up with a new source of intrigue. 

“ _Eve,_ say hello,” Villanelle says as her eyes flash with mirth. Eve comes back to her senses and allows him to take her hand, briefly shaking it and pulling away before he gets the chance to kiss the back of it. He laughs, mentions something about newlyweds and impatience. She smiles rather awkwardly in return, then reaches and grasps Villanelle’s forearm.

“Let’s go check out the room, shall we?” She suggests, and Villanelle shoots a not-so-subtle glance at Basil with wiggling eyebrows as Eve leads her away and down the echoing hallways of marble. 

As soon as they’re out of sight from Basil, Villanelle’s entire demeanor changes, that surefire cockiness deflating from her shoulders and her grin dropping to a general contentment sitting just below her cupid’s bow. They walk in silence for a few moments, the only noises puncturing their stroll being the crash of the ocean outside and distantly chirping birds. 

“He is such a dick,” Eve speaks first. That immediately elicits loud, booming laughter from the blonde on her arm and she shakes her head. 

“Isn’t he?” Villanelle agrees, before coming to a realization. “Do you even know where you’re going?” 

“No, not at all,” the older woman replies. She had essentially walked them in a square and now guided them to the outside of the resort where there was a boardwalk along the beach. The water glistened with a deep, vivid blue, and kissed flawless white sand that looked like it had been left untouched for hundreds of years. It was quiet and secluded. It was private. They were alone here, Eve realized. 

Finally alone together for more than a few minutes at a time. It made her feel giddy and nervous at the same time, like she was bound to let this newfound freedom go to her head by the end of the day. 

Well. She might.

Villanelle must have noticed her mood change, because she angles her body behind Eve to ghost her lips near her ear. Her arms slide around the thin frame of Eve and wrap around her completely to pull her further into soft warmth. A hot breath fans the side of Eve’s face before a pair of lips are firmly pressed to her temple.

“Do you like it?” She whispers hopefully. Their bodies rock slightly in unison from side to side as the ocean breeze threads its way through every crevice and space it can find between them. Eve relaxes into Villanelle, allows herself to appreciate this moment that might as well have come out of a romance novel. They could have made a pretty sexy cover. 

She nods. “Yeah,” she whispers back. Her hands cover Villanelle’s, crave to reach back and pull her face to hers by the hair until neither one of them could breath anymore. Eve is about to do just that when the assassin asks a different question that makes her pause.

“Do you regret any of it?”

Eve turns around in her arms, a crease in her brow as they knit together. Her hands keep Villanelle’s arms around her as she looks up into her eyes searchingly. She thinks of Paris, of Rome, of everything in between. She thinks of Raymond’s blood staining her hands and his bits of brain matter scattered across the floor, but also thinks of the way that Villanelle buried her face into her hair shortly thereafter. She thinks of Niko and the divorce papers, of _piss off,_ of how Bill would have taken her out for a drink and told her that Villanelle was _much_ sexier than his moustache anyways. She thinks of deflecting Dasha’s remarks about Villanelle and vividly remembers crushing her under her weight without a single drop of remorse and too much satisfaction. 

She thinks of the warm press of Villanelle’s lips on hers as they bumped around on the bus.

“No,” Eve says quietly, fiercely, because she knows that Villanelle is hanging onto her every word. She thinks that if she had replied anything else, hurt would flash across the Russian’s face, and she might as well have stabbed her another time. That scar? It wouldn’t have been sexy. It would have been devastating.

“I don’t regret _anything,_ ” she continues, the realization hitting her like a truck. “I feel… complicated, sometimes, but when I think of you? I feel _alive._ I feel like now I have a real _purpose._ A destiny.”

“What, to kill me?” Villanelle asks amusedly, but her eyes have melted into embers, refusing to part from Eve’s dark eyes for even a second. Eve was the puppetmaster with a pair of scissors and Villanelle was the puppet dangling by a string. The only difference was that she knew that if it snapped, Eve would be the one to catch her.

Eve smiles. “To be with you.”

“I think that I would follow you anywhere,” Villanelle confesses in earnest. 

They make their way back to the room that had been reserved for them, but it’s more like an apartment. An archway in the vast expanse of the living room opened up directly to the bedroom where a king sized bed greeted them. Another archway with glass doors that were opened wide revealed the same beach as before. The cool breeze ushered out the stuffiness of the room as the pair bustled in with their belongings. 

A suitcase was already on the bed.

“What’s this?” Eve questions, approaching the bag like it was some sort of bomb. To be fair, in their situation, it was not very far-fetched to think that someone had already tried to crash their little vacation. 

“I know you packed for the winter, so I got you some new clothes,” Villanelle calls from the kitchenette. Something _pops_ out of sight, and Eve knows that she has just uncorked a brand new bottle of champagne. Some things really never do change, do they?

The suitcase unzipped to reveal expensive designer clothing, most made from a lighter material or a type of shear. A little white box in the corner caught her eye—this was familiar. She pulled the bottle of _La Villanelle_ with a fond smile. She discreetly spritzed some onto her wrists and neck, then continued unearthing the rest of her new wardrobe. 

“A lot of bathing suits in here,” she remarked. At least three or four, all two pieces but tastefully coming in colours like black and navy. She held up a black ensemble with intricate designs on the chest piece and set it aside. 

“It _is_ a beach, Eve,” Villanelle says haughtily as she turns the corner with two champagne glasses, one held gingerly in each hand. “I thought that you might want to go swimming sometime.”

Eve hums and looks down at the black two piece. The sweat was slowly but surely collecting down her back.

“Do you want to go now?” She asks, picking up the top of the two piece in a feigned casual gesture. She doesn’t dare look up at Villanelle, can only imagine the expansion of her pupils as she stands there stupidly with her Veuve Clicquot. That champagne probably cost several of her entire paychecks. 

“Do _you?_ ”

“I’m really hot.”

“Oh, I know you are,” Villanelle grins wolfishly. Eve shoots her a deadpan look. 

“I will go change,” the assassin continues completely unaffected, then disappears out of sight, leaving the older woman alone in the master bedroom to put on her own ensemble. 

By the time Eve gathers her wits enough to feel comfortable walking out onto the beach with this much skin on display, Villanelle is already chest-deep in the blue waters. Her smooth skin glistens with water droplets and shines in the sun, but there's absolutely nothing on the way Villanelle smiles when she spots Eve walking towards her. As her gaze flickers down Eve’s body, it darkens into something more, and she watches in anticipation as she enters the water and wades towards her until they’re face to face. 

“Hi,” says Eve.

“Hi,” says Villanelle. 

They stand apart in the water, and Eve thinks that they might as well be shaking hands at this point. She advances forward until her knees touch Villanelle’s, then she uses her newfound lightness in the water to wrap her legs around the assassin’s hips and follow suit with her arms around her neck. 

She hasn’t kissed her since the bus. This was the most nerve-wracking thing she has ever done, but Eve can’t find it in herself to feel remotely nervous about it. Instead, she feels a cool confidence as she slots her lips over Villanelle’s and feels her exhale in relief. They stay like that for a while, Eve’s tongue parting Villanelle’s lips without much resistance and revelling in the simple heat of her mouth. 

Villanelle inhales and suddenly pulls away, a smirk on her face. She lowers her head and noses along the wet skin of Eve’s neck before breathing in again. A low chuckle leaves her and vibrates right down to Eve’s core.

“That smells familiar,” she mouths against her skin, daring to go lower. “This was never about swimming, was it?” 

The look in her eyes when she raises her head again to look at Eve shows that she knew very well that it was never what it was going to be about. She piques an eyebrow and waits for an answer, thumb gliding along the flesh of Eve’s thigh, teasing her hand close to the hem of her swimsuit bottoms but never touching.

“It definitely wasn’t,” Eve confirms.

They end up on the white sand of the beach. Villanelle’s back hits the ground swiftly followed by Eve clambering on top of her to straddle her hips. She draws her up into a searing kiss, tastes champagne and sea salt and strawberry from the danish she had wolfed down earlier in the day. She thinks to herself that it’s a privilege to know what her lips feel like, hot and pliant pressed against her own, thinks that it’s an absolute _gift_ to drag her teeth along the column of Villanelle’s neck and hear her full on _gasp_ in response.

Villanelle always looked like someone who would take the reins in these types of situations, and she probably _was,_ just makes the exception to the rule for Eve and Eve _only._ In this moment, she’s vulnerable, arching up into every _hint_ of a touch that Eve gives her, tries and fails to stifle a whine into her ear while fisting masses of curly hair. 

Eve thinks about how many times she has imagined this in the solace of her bedroom, hidden away in the darkness of the night as her fingers moved in between her legs. She thought about Villanelle’s hands around her throat and thought about leaving dark purple marks and red half moons on the assassin’s flawless skin. She thought about whispering sweet nothings as Villanelle came down from her high. She thought about what Villanelle would do, say, smell like, _feel_ like, and now she would _know._

Villanelle’s hand slides down Eve’s stomach and briefly dips into the front of her swimsuit bottoms before it’s suddenly pinned next to her head. The older woman holds her wrist in place in the sand and soon the other one ends up the same on the other side. She stares up at Eve with a flushed look on her face. Acutely, both of them know that Villanelle could easily overtake her in a matter of seconds, but it’s the relinquishment and gain of control that ultimately spurs them on.

“I don’t think so,” Eve whispers tantalizingly, dipping her head and latching onto Villanelle’s pulse point. She bites down and soothes the sting with her tongue, then slides lower to repeat the same motion all the way down to her collarbone, her hot breath dragging against her skin.

“God, you are so hot,” Villanelle groans, throwing her head back and straining her wrists against Eve’s vice-like grip. Her arms stay in place, even when Eve lets go to palm a breast over the bikini top she’s sporting. It doesn’t stay on for very long and ends up flung a couple feet away from them. Eve lowers herself down Villanelle’s body, kisses down the length and slides reverently over the taut muscle of her abdomen.

Her fingers slip under the string of Villanelle’s bikini bottoms and tugs them lower with the assassin urging her on, using her legs to kick them off without a care. Villanelle watches, absolutely mesmerized and transfixed as Eve settles between her legs. She reaches down to grab hold of her hair, but Eve’s raised hand stops her in her tracks.

“Don’t,” Eve warns. Her gaze is black and intense on Villanelle. The blonde breathes in, feeling a sudden spike of want. She would do _anything_ Eve asked if it just meant that she would hurry up and f—

Villanelle lets out a loud string of curses when Eve’s tongue suddenly buries itself in the slick heat of her. She claps a hand over her mouth and arches into the movement, grabs fistfuls of sand in the other hand while the other woman’s grip on her thighs only tightens to keep her in place. It takes her a moment to truly find her bearings, but she soon continues to circle Villanelle’s clit pointedly, the low hum from her throat sending vibrations throughout the assassin’s body.

“Eve,” Villanelle moans, gasping in a breath. “Eve, Eve, Eve,” she chants like a song or a prayer, like she had devoted her entire life to a deity and only now could indulge in the touch of a goddess. The woman herself pulls away, only to suddenly glide two fingers inside of her with no prior warning. The movement almost sends Villanelle over the edge.

“ _Блядь,_ ” she breathes, no longer able to restrain herself and reaching to grip around Eve’s shoulders. Her nails dig in as Eve starts a punishing and unforgiving pace, fucking her hard into the ground with the weight of her entire body thrown behind it. Villanelle feels the burning swell of her climax approach _shamefully_ fast and stays silent save for a hitch of her breath when she releases, clenching around Eve’s long fingers. She arches up into her, then collapses back into the sand, spent after receiving what was the probably the _best_ orgasm of her entire life. 

Eve slows down and lets her ride it out, a smug expression lighting up her entire face as she withdraws her fingers from between Villanelle’s legs. What was it they said about faking it until you make it? Slowly, she crawled back up until she was level with her face. She sweetly pressed a kiss to her lips.

“You were a good girl,” she whispers with a curl of her lips.

“I hate how smug you are being,” Villanelle replies dryly when she composes herself. “But I would be, too, if I were you.” She reaches for Eve’s hand and draws her fingers into her mouth. Eve watches her, completely bewitched.

“Now do it again,” Villanelle says once she draws them out, and pushes Eve down by her shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> ok this is the first time i've written nsfw so i am SORRY  
> basil has the right to shut the fuck up  
> i'm @topeve on tumblr! talk to me there!
> 
> request: literally anything with bottom villanelle and you'd be doing God's work


End file.
